


Departure: Salgin: Near the Church

by moody_trans_detective



Series: Rogueass Galaxy [1]
Category: Rogue Galaxy
Genre: Bondage, Gangbang, M/M, altar boys, maybe dubious?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:00:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26818474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moody_trans_detective/pseuds/moody_trans_detective
Summary: Jaster is displeased with the current occupation of Rosa and is reminiscing how he got his start earning money for sex.
Relationships: Jaster/Many
Series: Rogueass Galaxy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956043
Kudos: 1





	Departure: Salgin: Near the Church

He was too old to be an altar boy now. Raul was probably relieved. He’d never said anything, but Jaster always suspected he knew what Jaster and the other boys had gotten up to. Not that Jaster didn’t get up to such things now…just not in the church anymore.

Jaster walked down the main aisle, pews shorter than they used to be, and dumped the contents of his purse into the offering dish. He lit a candle as though to say a prayer, glanced at the number of coins, then lit seven more. That seemed about right for the amount of money. Then he slunk off into the back rooms of the church.

He was restless these days, like something under his skin itched, trying to get him to do something, anything, but he couldn’t figure out what. He ran his tongue over his lips, still able to taste the last person he’d been with. He’d graduated from what he’d learned as an altar boy and while he enjoyed screwing around for pay, he knew he could never admit that was how he was keeping the church running since the Longardian takeover.

Raul’s holy texts spilled across his desk, the lines of a fresh sermon scrawled on a paper tucked into one like a bookmark. Jaster wondered if Raul suspected now. He’d always been good to Jaster, and Jaster wouldn’t want to let him down. Still, Jaster wasn’t doing anything completely against Raul’s teachings—spreading love and joy and pleasure was good. The making of money from it…was necessary. Now more than ever.

He knew Raul wouldn’t be back from the house call he said he was going on for at least an hour yet, giving Jaster time alone in the church to turn over his strange feelings before hiring a yago and going out to keep up the pretense he was earning money other ways. Would it always be this way now? He hated the military presence, and the sex just wasn’t making up for it.

Jaster wanted to be free. Wanted to feel what it was he could barely grasp when he gazed up at the night sky, so clear on Rosa, so crisply perfect.

He came to the back room where the altar boys kept their robes, dusty from not being swept, air thick with memories. Jaster smelled incense, eyes drifting to the shelf where it was stored. What he’d gotten up to in here…

Maybe Raul had suspected. But Jaster was sure Raul never imagined the extent. Maybe he’d thought it was boys fooling around, hands fumbling over each other, trying out the newness of touch and orgasm, seeing the variation of cocks and how they hardened. Maybe he’d even thought Jaster had gotten intimate with one of the boys in particular, his first young relationship.

He couldn’t have known about the signup sheet, the rates once Jaster figured he could get money out of the other boys. What started out with a hand job as a joke blossomed into a successful business. And as they all grew, their tastes grew too, so that by his last year as altar boy, Jaster had some fairly steamy memories.

He put his hand up against the door frame, old painted wood smooth with age beneath his palm, and remembered the last time. He’d gone through this very doorway, the final one through, just as agreed. Out in the main church Raul was chatting with lingering worshippers. It had been a big ceremony, a holy day, and all the most experienced altar boys had been called to serve. One of them moved behind Jaster now, shoved him forward, shut and bolted the door.

It had been delicious, sinful torture for them all to suffer through the lengthy rituals, knowing what they knew, anticipating the time after. Jaster had been naked under his robes—also agreed on ahead of time—and the struggle to withhold an erection had been nearly unbearable. He’d known what was coming, too, had it all spelled out on his paper where he’d had the others sign agreeing to his price, what he’d do for them, let them do to him.

The contracts had made them feel like adults. The fucking had made them feel alive.

It all had to be silent, of course. The moment the door was shut they’d gagged him with his own underpants, pulled the cord off his robes and bound his hands. His robes hanging loose on him, they’d shoved him toward a stool and bent him over it, flipped the cloth up, kicked his legs aside. The scent of the incense left burning on the floor before him had clogged his nose, overwhelmed his head. You can’t smell sex over incense. They’d known so many little tricks.

Someone had tied his legs to the stool with more cord. Jaster had watched the altar boys pass around the scented holy oil, rub it over their hard cocks. He’d gotten hard too, so hard it hurt, cock shoved up against the underside of the stool, surprisingly smooth. He hadn’t worried about splinters.

And then they’d taken him in turns. He hadn’t known how they’d chosen their order, but that hadn’t mattered much. He’d screwed two before, one right after the other, but never this many, never four, and he’d been grateful for the gag that day. By the time the third altar boy had slid his cock in, filling Jaster, he was unable to hold back the moans. By the time the fourth cock was up his ass, Jaster could feel the come leaking down his taint, the back of his balls, tight with how needy he was. There had been no where else for it to go.

It could have been the dripping come, or the way this last cock had hit him just right, or even just the wonderful torment of it all, but whatever the case, Jaster had gone off, cock tapping the underside of the chair with each thrust. It hadn’t been much of an orgasm, but the other altar boys noticed, laughed at him. The fourth finished himself off and pulled out, another dribble of come sliding out with his cock.

Jaster remembered how he’d closed his eyes, breathed heavily through his nose. How the position had made him sore, how his ass had been raw, how he’d felt so good despite all that and the lackluster orgasm. And then he remembered the feel of a hard cock at his ass again, how he’d opened his eyes in surprise as it pressed forward, one smooth thrust aided by holy oil and come.

He'd sworn into his gag. The altar boys had laughed again. At eighteen, nineteen years old, they could all get it up again swiftly, and all four had taken turns again, riding Jaster’s ass longer than the first time. He’d moaned louder, shuddering at each new cock, oil and come dribbling everywhere.

And then, finally, someone had wrapped an arm around him and the chair and a hand around his cock. Despite it being the second time in an hour, Jaster had come fast and hard, all over the dusty stone floor, shuddering against the stool. The other altar boys had left their money and untied him, but it was Jaster who’d had to clean up, moving stiffly around the room, racing to get everything more or less in order before Raul poked his head inside to see how he was doing.

All that was in the past now. Jaster peered around the room, noticing the subtle changes that had happened in only a matter of a few years. He was in his early twenties now, and fucking around with altar boys seemed so distant he couldn’t even imagine doing it now.

He licked his lips again. Time to forget things that happened before the Longardian forces showed up. Time to go out and pretend to earn money the way other people did.


End file.
